A Cold Day In Downieville
When I'm at work, I avoid stepping out of my building. I'm perfectly satisfied sitting in front of my computer typing code for 8 hours straight.
My co-workers will tease me because how how I avoid direct sun and prefer to eat inside the cafeteria. They always say, "Let's eat outdoors", and I always refuse.
I came to a realization today: my co-workers want to be outdoors. I want to be outside.
24 hours ago, I was standing on the bridge over Pauley Creek. The rest of my crew decided to ride Big Boulder, so I was descending alone.
It was cold out, in the low 40's, and overcast the whole day. A few snowflakes fell when I reached Butcher Ranch and by the time I made it First Divide, it was a steady rain.
A day like yesterday forces you to drop your conceits. There is no one out there to impress. With a chill mountain wind, the rain on your face, and another 15 miles before you reach town, it also feels like no one is out there to help you either.
You have go to your reserve of strength and resolve to keep going. Being alone, there was no words of encouragement, feelings of camaraderie, or even "keep fucking riding".
Standing on that bridge, I felt alone and small. The river didn't care how I feel; the rocks it flowed over offered no sympathy. The cold wind blew without asking my opinion and the sky was preparing to unload its moisture even if it ruined my day.
Sitting in front of my computer, I am quickly forgetting what is was like on the Pauley Creek Trail. Good thing I am going back to Downieville next weekend.
My co-workers will tease me because how how I avoid direct sun and prefer to eat inside the cafeteria. They always say, "Let's eat outdoors", and I always refuse.
I came to a realization today: my co-workers want to be outdoors. I want to be outside.
24 hours ago, I was standing on the bridge over Pauley Creek. The rest of my crew decided to ride Big Boulder, so I was descending alone.
It was cold out, in the low 40's, and overcast the whole day. A few snowflakes fell when I reached Butcher Ranch and by the time I made it First Divide, it was a steady rain.
A day like yesterday forces you to drop your conceits. There is no one out there to impress. With a chill mountain wind, the rain on your face, and another 15 miles before you reach town, it also feels like no one is out there to help you either.
You have go to your reserve of strength and resolve to keep going. Being alone, there was no words of encouragement, feelings of camaraderie, or even "keep fucking riding".
Standing on that bridge, I felt alone and small. The river didn't care how I feel; the rocks it flowed over offered no sympathy. The cold wind blew without asking my opinion and the sky was preparing to unload its moisture even if it ruined my day.
Sitting in front of my computer, I am quickly forgetting what is was like on the Pauley Creek Trail. Good thing I am going back to Downieville next weekend.
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